A/N: So, this isn't something new. This is something I thought of in the spur of the moment (in the shower, actually) while listening to the song by Dierks Bentley (yes, I listen to music while I'm in the shower…usually) and the idea came to me. It's a quick and dirty bit, I thought of this whole introspective beginning to it, but by the time I got out of the shower I lost it and I just wrote this bit so I wouldn't lose it. And I just went and posted all this over a year ago on tumblr. Then, I promptly forgot about it.
And I actually had a lazy day at home today, so I've been going through my writing and found this and went…I never did post that on FFN, did I? So, I read through it, changed the ending a midge, and here you've got it.
Warning: Not nice or warm or fluffy.
Say You Do
"Don't worry about the damage done / just let those words roll off your tongue / even if you're lying / couldn't you / say you do?"
- Dierks Bentley, "Say You Do"
"Don't give me that look," he scoffed, putting his drink down but not letting it go. He glanced at her through the sliver in the mirror. "I'm not sitting here trying to drink my sorrows away, or get over the shock of seeing you again," he turned to her then and at her half-raised eyebrow, he looked right into her eyes, "I'm sitting here nursing this drink trying to keep myself from breaking into your room and kissing you until you remember how good we were." He smirked at the look of surprise in her eyes and hoped she didn't notice it was only partly true. "And we were good, Raven," he leaned into her space and lowered his voice. "Don't you miss that?" he asked. "Can anyone else make you cry out like I can?" he let his eyes trail hotly over the features of her face, so familiar to him. "Can he?"
She sighed, and maybe he imagined it, but he thought it was a little unsteady, a little ragged. "Roy," she said, then swallowed, "I thought you understood, last year, I thought you-"
He looked away from her and back to his drink. "Oh, I understood," he interrupted her. "I understand still," he said. "I don't need to hear it," he swallowed. "But I do need you," he admitted softly. "I've never met anyone that fills me up like you do," he continued. "You're like a drug that way, I suppose," he mused, taking a swallow of his drink as if to accentuate the point.
"I don't-" she started, but he turned to her suddenly and the look in his eyes dried up the words in her throat.
"I know," he interrupted her again. "Don't you understand?" he asked her, leaning toward her, searching her eyes. "I know you don't," he almost reached out for her then, she was so close. He could smell her toothpaste, remembered how it tasted when he kissed her. "But I don't care," he growled. "I don't care what you did, I don't care that the whole time you were with me, you were wanting him," he was whispering now, one arm on the back of her stool, and the other along the side of her on the bar, effectively caging her in, but neither of them really noticed it. He leaned in close enough to smell the soap she'd used to shower and inhaled the scent of her. "I just want you," he whispered, "I want the smell of you on my skin," he continued to whisper in her ear, "I want you," he repeated, "In my arms, in my bed," he closed his eyes. "I want the smell of you to invade me, I want the feel of your legs wrapped around me, I want the warmth of you holding me," his voice was a raspy whisper, his nearness increasing the intimacy. He couldn't see her face this close, but he didn't need to. Her skin still reacted to his nearness the way it always had. "I don't care if you ignore me tomorrow…" he sighed and watched the flesh of her nape react, erupting in gooseflesh, heard the soft sigh that escaped her lips. "Just say you do, Raven," he prompted.
"I—" she started, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear, so he cut her off.
"Just say it," he whispered urgently. "Say you do."
"Do what?" she asked, her voice gruff and breathy.
He leaned back away from her, then, needing to see her eyes now, catching the flicker of remembrance in them even in the dim bar lights, the way her dark pupils had washed out almost all the lavender in her eyes. He raised the tumbler to his lips, and eyes never leaving hers, he took a long, lazy swallow. Her eyes flicked to the column of his throat as it moved and he waited until she was looking at him to answer. "That you want me too."
End A/N: I'm not sure it needs anything else. What do you think?